


Played?

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Series: Getting To Know You [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Community: kink_bingo, Emotions, Established Relationship, Held Down, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Fuck, Frederick thinks. Did Ashe just play him?</i> Written for kink_bingo's gift basket challenge, "We Have Ways Of Making You Talk", emotional play square.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Played?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingenius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenius/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tale of a Modern Thief](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/22260) by ingenius. 



> This is an original fic remix/fanfic for the one-shot fic above. This series covers from the time of their first fuck to the last time they have sex in the original fic, so you don't need to read the fic to understand it but I (of course) suggest that you do, as it'll help you get more out of this series. This is the last story in the series and directly mirrors a scene in the original fic, so you'll better understand and appreciate this story if you've read the original fic.

Frederick thinks that Ashe probably imagines he's being slick, hiding in the shadows, but Frederick knows the smell of Ashe too well to miss it by now. And especially with the smell of dried blood overlaying that Ashe-scent, no doubt from his split lip.

He has to admit: Ashe is an agile fighter, a little too quick for his own good, and he knows how to fight people who're larger than he is. But Frederick knows how to channel his anger and more than that, he's trained. 

After the ensuing fight, they end up exactly the way Frederick expects from the start: Ashe with new bruises and Frederick pressing him against the wall. He's got his arms on either side of Ashe's face, using his body to pin Ashe, panting, so angry he can barely fucking see straight. It's just like last time: he doesn't express his anger while Ashe is high, but waits until later.

Only this is a later he didn't even think he'd get, so when Ashe says, "Okay. _Okay_ , if that's what you need," all Frederick can think is _Why are you so motherfucking perfect?_ Because Ashe is perfect, everything that Frederick wants in a man and more, things he didn't know to want but doesn't think he can live without now. 

That fact makes him even angrier for a moment, Ashe being so goddamned perfect, and then Frederick's resolve just falls away and he heaves out a breath and leans harder against Ashe, one hand around the back of his neck. The feeling of Ashe's forehead touching his is so right it fucking _hurts_. "Damn it, Ashe. If you fucking mess with my head again, I'll _break_ you." Except he knows that he _can't_. But it feels good to say it. 

Feels good to feel Ashe nodding, feel that movement of Ashe's forehead against Frederick's. "Okay. Okay, I just--" 

Frederick kisses him. He doesn't give a shit what Ashe _just_ whatever. He gives a shit about Ashe, about how this, their relationship that was so solid before, suddenly feels so fragile and he wants to break it but he wants to hold it close and keep it safe, too. He puts every bit of his need into the kiss, biting Ashe's lip, rocking his hips against Ashe's. 

Ashe grabs Frederick's jacket and pulls Frederick against him, at which point Frederick's brain reminds him that they're in the foyer and fucking on the floor would be supremely uncomfortable but they're going to or Frederick _will_ fall back on that beating. It's fight or fuck, and he knows which he'd rather do with Ashe. Only Ashe pulls away suddenly, despite the way his hands are still buried in Frederick's jacket

"What?" Frederick asks, gasping the word out as he drags in proper breaths.

Ashe's smile is wan. "I'm too sore to fuck on the floor, so if we're doing that..." 

He seems to be waiting for a response, so Frederick nods. Fucking sounds better than fighting, even if Ashe is sore as fuck. (His own fault, Frederick thinks.)

"Then we're doing it on a bed." 

Frederick's already pulling back before the words are even all the way out, snapping out a "fine," and cupping his hand around the back of Ashe's skull. Over the hair that isn't floppy anymore, that's short and even more fucking perfect than before. He guides Ashe to the bedroom that way, and gives him a little push once they're past the doorway so he can take off his clothes in record time. 

Fight or fuck. Ashe is way slower at taking off his clothes, struggling with his boots, and Frederick's so fucking impatient that he can't help pressing himself against Ashe and mouthing Ashe's shoulders, the back of his neck. He bites, too, when he needs to feel Ashe give little shivers. 

He doesn't even want to pull away enough for Ashe to get the rest of his clothes off, but he does, dazed for a moment as he watches Ashe exhibit that grace that gave Frederick a good run for his money. He's watching so closely that he can't make himself move until Ashe flops down on the bed, at which point Frederick grabs the lube off of the nightstand.

They fucked, their usual mid-week romp, earlier in the week. If Frederick knew then what he knows now... no, he'd still do it. He'll still do it, still grab Ashe's hips when Ashe pushes himself up from the sprawl, still not regret that he gets to do it, too. 

"Don't fucking move," Frederick grinds out, then shifts to a hiss so Ashe won't be able to tell that Frederick's voice is hoarse. "If I want you on your hands and knees, I'll put you there." He pushes Ashe back down onto the mattress, one hand in the middle of Ashe's abdomen, careless of all the sensitive organs there. 

Ashe doesn't complain. His eyes get a little glassy, the way they do when Frederick tops him, though he must know because he turns his head away as he spreads his legs. 

Wasting time at this point is pointless, careless, so Frederick doesn't do it. He just slides two slick fingers into Ashe, careful not to injure him. Fucking, not fighting. Ashe is sore; Frederick doesn't need to be rough.

"Come on," Ashe growls, impatient as ever. "I swear, Red--" and he grabs a fistful of Frederick's hair and just _pulls_ in the best way possible. 

If it's supposed to be a threat--well, it _is_ a threat, knowing Ashe, an idea that makes Frederick laugh softly and kiss Ashe's inner thigh in the painfully gentle way that Ashe loves to hate. He _is_ already hurt, so when he groans Frederick rewards him with nothing but dragging his teeth, not real biting. 

"Oh come the _fuck on_ ," Ashe says. He's whining, almost sobbing, pulling Frederick's hair hard enough to make his cock throb. 

Clearly the drugs or the pain or both have done something to Ashe's mind and he's forgotten exactly how much Frederick likes having his hair pulled. "Are you trying to piss me off? Because you know that's not going to piss me off."

Ashe's whining doesn't stop, of course. "You're being slow; I don't fucking want slow." 

"Tonight," Frederick says, making his words precise despite the still-desperate tugging of his hair, "you get whatever I want to give you. So spread your legs, lie back, and _deal_."

That little huff of Ashe's is beautiful, delicious. "Fuck you," he says first, and immediately thinks better of it, because his voice switches to something that's not a whine and he adds, "Fine." Then he clenches around Frederick's fingers.

Of course it makes Frederick's cock throb, makes Frederick want to just nail Ashe here and now, but Ashe isn't going to get Frederick to give in to him. Not tonight. He just chooses not to respond and returns to fingering Ashe, adding another finger and reveling both the moan and the needy tilt of Ashe's hips. He's always so helpful when he really, really wants to be fucked, though he was much less of a pain when he was on rush, so Frederick tells him so. 

"No," Ashe says, short and sharp, like a curse. "I was barely standing up _and_ I didn't have my hands, so I couldn't get myself off." 

Frederick grins and curls his fingers--for the first time. He's been an ass, denying Ashe the pleasure he gives him now by stroking over his prostate and then pressing against it as hard as he can. Ashe's body jerks in surprise and he gasps for breath, grabbing at the blankets; Frederick finds himself saying, "Yeah, I don't think I need drugs to make you behave." 

Ashe's noises say that he's trying to talk, but he doesn't get any real words out, just consonants every so often and a few, longer, drawn-out vowels. The way he draws the sounds out makes Frederick think about rush and the way that rush intensifies sensations. 

Frederick's father gave Ashe the antidote, so this isn't rush. He knows that for sure, knows that this is all Ashe. And Ashe doing exactly what he wants, too, looking so delicious as he jerks and moans and tries so very, very hard to pretend like he's not doing exactly what Frederick wants him to do. 

"I don't--" Ashe manages, after Frederick backs off soon since he doesn't want to make Ashe come too soon, "--fucking know why Brune and Hank thought you were such a gentleman." 

Frederick goes cold, fingers stopping entirely. " _What_?"

"Don't stop," Ashe says far too casually, sitting up on his elbows and giving Frederick a look that begs, _don't make a big deal out of this_. "Seriously--" 

"Hank and Brune," Frederick growls their names, then makes himself take a breath because he isn't angry at Ashe, not really. Or not _now_ at least. "What the fuck did they do? Because you broke Brune's nose and Hank has a concussion." 

"They, uh, said they were going to teach me what to do with my mouth," Ashe says, like it means nothing. Like it's perfectly okay. "Because you were too much of a gentleman to use it properly." 

They both know that Frederick is nothing of the sort, so it doesn't need saying. "Did they try to--"

"No," Ashe cuts in, almost as sharp as the curse of a _no_ earlier. "No, I beat the crap out of them before they could teach me any of their sub-par technique." 

Leave it to Ashe to be flippant about this kind of shit. "Don't joke about that," Frederick says, instead of _I'm so fucking glad you're okay_ or anything else that'll make Ashe freak out. He's learned by now how much those kind of statements make Ashe run away. "If you hadn't messed them up I'd have to go back to the hospital and kill them."

Ashe's eyes still went a little wide, fixed directly on Frederick, and when he finally takes another breath Frederick realizes that he stopped breathing too. 

"I still might," Frederick says, softer. "But after we're done here." 

"Red," Ashe whines, his body twisting, tightening.

Like he needs to be fucked as badly as Frederick suddenly needs to bury his cock in Ashe. Frederick pulls his fingers out--careful, of course, still conscious of the fact that Ashe's hurt, sore--and lubes himself up and pushes inside of Ashe like he needs to so he won't die from the lack. 

He feels bad for not giving Ashe enough time to adjust, but not very. Not when Ashe groans happily, head back, eyes closed, hands pressing over Frederick's where Frederick holds Ashe's hips to keep him from moving too much. Ashe is wont to, usually, and make himself come, which makes Frederick think about the time that he made Ashe fuck himself on Frederick's cock and suddenly he needs that position, needs to lean over Ashe and press their bodies together as much as humanly possible. 

The noise Ashe makes when Frederick pulls out is beautiful. He almost pushes in and pulls out again just to hear it, but he's already climbing off, and Ashe is already trying to reach for Frederick, begging, "No, wait," like he'll come apart if Frederick stops. 

"Roll over," Frederick orders, and Ashe looks at him like there's nothing between his ears but air and Frederick's speaking a different language besides. "Roll over!" Frederick says again, sharper, pulling at Ashe's feet, trying to get him in gear. Turns out that's exactly what Ashe needs, though it takes a couple tries before he's on his belly, legs spread apart over Frederick's thighs. Frederick breathes out a happy little, "Good," even though his cock isn't inside of Ashe yet. "Did you want a pillow?" 

Ashe shakes his head. "What I want is for you to get the fuck on with it," he says, voice low and sensual but still angry, still unhappy, though the words have the tone Ashe uses for dirty talk, "before I decide you're too much trouble and get myself off." 

Like he'll actually do that. Frederick smacks his ass not at all lightly for even bringing up the idea, and presses inside of Ashe without warning or apology. Ashe is so wonderfully tight around him that Frederick gasps in and in and in, leaning down, breathing in the scent of the sweat between Ashe's shoulderblades. Ashe shakes under him, moaning, pawing at the blanket. 

"Are you close?" Frederick asks, catching both of Ashe's wrists and pressing them down, holding him still so that Frederick can fuck him harder, thrusts that rock Ashe's entire body and make him squirm the way he does when he's held down. "Because you _sound_ like you are." And so does Frederick, but Frederick has a lot of practice with holding back until Ashe comes. 

Ashe growls wordlessly and squirms _harder_. "Let go of my hand and I _will_ get off." 

Frederick hums against the flushed skin of Ashe's shoulders, feeling the tremors beginning in his own limbs. "I suppose I could, but then you might stop squirming on my cock." They both know it's the last thing Frederick wants, always: for Ashe to stop. 

"I'm not _squirming_ on your damn cock," Ashe says. His tone says they both know he is, they both know that Ashe can't hold still when Frederick holds him down, both know that right now he's all but fucking himself back against Frederick's cock with more desperation that Frederick's seen out of Ashe before. 

"I like it. Like, really, I _like_ that you can fight me." Frederick talks just to annoy Ashe, just to feel the way he shudders and the squirming speeds up. He moans, but muffles it against Ashe's short, short hair. "I like that you can beat the shit out of Brune and Hank and I like that you're so fucking smart you hacked our security system." 

"I like _coming_ ," Ashe says, all anger but he's actually fucking himself back against Frederick's cock now, back bowing, shoulders going back as he stretches his arms out as far as they'll go. "I really fucking like _coming_ and, and, you need to be working on _that_." 

He is. Even if he's being self-serving and letting Ashe fuck himself because he loves the way it looks, loves the way it feels, to have every ounce Ashe has in him backing up against Frederick's cock like he's going to die if there's not fucking right now, now, now. 

Frederick wraps his arms around Ashe's chest and pulls him back until they're on their knees. He doesn't stop fucking, not for a moment, even as he lets one arm slide down, around his middle instead, and pulls Ashe's his back against his, loving the weight of it, the drag, everything. 

With his other hand, he presses against Ashe's chest, slowing down until he's almost not fucking Ashe at all, so Ashe can feel every damn inch of Frederick's cock going in and out of him. "When have I ever not gotten you there?" Frederick asks, and speeds up again, just as Ashe's hands, both of them, go up to tangle in Frederick's hair and pull.

This time Frederick doesn't stop. He fucks Ashe hard, deep strokes that rock their bodies. Strokes that make Ashe groan and Frederick pant out these harsh breathe right in Ashe's ear, until he's jerking Ashe against him with both hands and it feels like Ashe is pulling out Frederick's hair and he's going to come, he's really going to come, even if Ashe doesn't come soon. 

Ashe is so gloriously tight and moving and suddenly Frederick remembers, remembers the night he spent fucking Ashe and trying to get him to come hands-free and how he thought that if failure felt this fucking good, he'd keep failing for the rest of his life and be happy as fuck with it. He wraps one hand around Ashe's cock, gives him a pull and a half, and feels Ashe come like he's coming apart. Shaking, teeth chattering, so good that he can't even make more than a choked noise.

Frederick's louder than him, groaning loud until he muffles it against Ashe's neck, pulling Ashe's hips back against his and emptying himself, coming inside Ashe. He holds onto Ashe until until he can't anymore, Frederick's eyes rolling back, at which point he has to let Ashe collapse forward onto the blankets. He doesn't collapse on top of Ashe, but it's a near thing, Frederick's head spinning as he holds himself up on his elbows. 

His head spins less and the world stops spinning around him entirely, and he lowers himself down beside Ashe, pulling Ashe onto his side, not quite willing yet to pull his cock out. His fingers find Ashe's short hair again after, rubbing through it absently. "It's a good thing you didn't look like this when I met you," Frederick murmurs, digging his fingernails in for a moment to that sensitive scalp. "I'd have bent you over my desk and fucked you the first day." Even without the help of Ashe's damn tease jeans. 

Ashe snorts. "You wish." 

The answer to that question doesn't have any words. Frederick reaches down and presses one finger gently against Ashe's opening, drawing a low moan with an accompanying squirm out of Ashe.

Who makes a face at Frederick over his shoulder. "Don't be smug." 

Frederick just presses close and nuzzles the side of Ashe's face and his neck. He's not being smug; he's being realistic. Which, for some reason, reminds him of the _just_ that Ashe wanted before Frederick decided he needed to fuck, not fight. "What was it you needed to tell me?"

"Oh, that," Ashe says, choppy, like Frederick's pulled him abruptly out of his thoughts. "I had some stuff on OMEG." 

Frederick sits up at that, the shift in his hips making his cock slide out of Ashe. But he can't even mourn it right now, not at the mention of OMEG. "What do you mean?" 

"People I work for aren't always nice," Ashe says, like it needs saying. "So I find things about them beforehand, in case they screw me over in the end." 

The things Frederick knows about OMEG say that Ashe is more right than wrong to have bothered with it. "But OMEG didn't screw you. They paid you, didn't they?" 

Ashe's expression says that he wants to know how Frederick knows that, but he doesn't ask so Frederick doesn't tell him. Instead, Ashe says, "Yes. But I'm pretty sure they killed a," he fumbles, like he's looking for a word, "a friend of mine. To make sure you caught up to me. And some other stuff, too." 

The idea that Frederick needed the help to catch Ashe is slightly worrying, but Ashe is busy waving his hand, like it doesn't even matter. 

"Anyway, I got it for you. You can use it."

Frederick's brows furrow. "You don't have to do that." OMEG will probably be able to figure out where the information comes from, if Frederick uses it too soon. Besides, as far as Frederick can tell, this fuck has made them _even_ , made all of the bullshit not matter. Proved that Ashe didn't fuck Frederick just because OMEG was paying him to.

"Actually, I kind of do," he says, cupping a hand on either side of Frederick's face. "I wasn't ever supposed to sleep with you, Red. That wasn't part of the plan. They paid me to get them some information, not to fuck you." 

"Fuck," Frederick says, and as soon as Ashe's hands fall away he rubs his own hand over his face. He feels like he just ran a marathon, got to the end, and Ashe has sat him down to tell him that he has another one to go. A lot of the ass-covering preparation he's done over the past few days means nothing if OMEG didn't pay Ashe to fuck him. 

He can't deal with it, suddenly. Not two marathons in a row. "I need to fucking sleep before I can deal with this. Come here." Frederick doesn't give a shit if Ashe is pressed up against him, he wants Ashe face to face, wants to nuzzle his face against Ashe's properly and wrap his arms around Ashe and hold him tight. "Go to sleep. You look like shit." No doubt Frederick looks about as good, but wherever Ashe has been since Frederick's dad let him go hasn't been treating him well. "We'll sort it out in the morning."

"Red, we can't," Ashe says, like he even knows what he's talking about.

"Go to sleep," Frederick says, sharper this time. "We'll work it out." 

That seems to be all Ashe needs, at least. His eyes flutter closed, his breathing evens out quicker than Frederick even expects, and Frederick isn't very far behind him. 

*

Someone's moving. Ashe, in Frederick's arms. "Ashe? Where..." 

"Just need the bathroom," Ashe says, voice soothing. "Go back to sleep."

Frederick, trusting Ashe, does.

*

He wakes up to an empty bed, rolls onto his back and listens to the apartment. It's impossible for Ashe to ever be quiet; he'll be making noise if he's still here. But the only sounds are the hum of the fans in the coolant system, the ticking of Frederick's watch on the nightstand, and the beating of Frederick's heart. 

Ashe is gone.

Fuck, Frederick thinks. Did Ashe just play him?

Then he rolls over to pick up his watch on the nightstand, sees the silver drive sitting next to it, and has no fucking clue what to think. But he knows that the information on the drive is going to need reviewing, presentation to Frederick's father, and implementing in whatever way they choose to use it.

He lets himself focus on that instead of the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach that says that Ashe won't be back. 

(Like Frederick will let him get away with that. He'll find Ashe again, and doesn't care if he has to personally hunt through every dome to do it.)


End file.
